


pit stop

by Darkfromday



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, kinkmeme fill, small mentions of one-sided cindyprom, someone cancel Noct's pilot license
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-07 02:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkfromday/pseuds/Darkfromday
Summary: Noctis loves the latest upgrade to the Regalia. Too bad he... can't really handle it.





	pit stop

"Y'all... have fish in yer car rims."  
  
Cindy looks up at them in a way that is clearly not supposed to be judgmental, but… is. Mostly because their beautiful, one-of-a-kind luxury car is stinking, soaking wet, covered in algae, and has Alstor bass and bird corpses jamming the wheels. And the recently-added “wings” didn’t retract and are stuck jutting out.  
  
Put frankly, the Regalia “Type F” has seen better days.  
  
“Yeaaah,” Noct says sheepishly, scratching his swampy hair and drawing her attention, “I uh, had to make a quick landing.”  
  
“In the Lucian Sound?” Her eyes narrow. She’s very nearly shrieking. Proof that she loves his father’s car far more than he ever could. “Prince, ya’d better have a great explanation for this—”  
  
“He does not, I’m afraid.” That’s Ignis, not-so-silently disapproving at his side. Like Noctis, he too is disheveled and soaking wet, but unlike him managed to primly squish his way out of the lake they’d landed in and all the way back to Hammerhead without losing his ire (or his glasses). “Other than a poor grasp of safe flying.”  
  
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault! Those birds had a death wish and they flew  _straight_  into the wheels, Cindy, everything was fine until they curved—”  
  
Gladio snorts. He’s got veins twitching in his forehead. “Yeah, everything was peachy until then. And everything would’ve been peachy  _after_  then too if Prince Charmless had just handed Iggy the wheel. Instead he decided to fly over ten miles of road and go for a dip instead.”  
  
“ _There were birds in the wheels_.  _And_  they were getting in the engine too! There’s no way we could have landed safely without dying in a hail of fire,  _again_.”  
  
“Got a point there, big guy,” Prompto pipes up—yet just as Noct thinks to thank him for  _noticing that they’re all alive thanks to him_ , he adds “We’re short on phoenix feathers ever since Noct used them all in Daurell. Maybe going for a swim was the safer bet.”  
  
“Well next time,  _maybe_  we should get a vote on that before we dive.”  
  
Noctis wants to punch him. Actually he wants to punch all of them.  
  
Fortunately for him, Cindy’s intense green eyes have softened a bit as the guys shared their woes. And her fondness for the Regalia means that she’ll fix any damage the old girl takes on, no matter how extensive. At least he hopes so.  
  
Still—she lets Noct sweat for more than a few heartbeats, silently scolding him so intently that even Prompto stops gazing reverently and pleadingly at her and starts chronicling the patterns on the ground instead.  
  
“I can fix ‘er,” she finally says. They all exhale. “ _But_. It’ll cost ya. A lot.”  
  
“We will pay it gladly,” Ignis assures her. His eyes drift to Noctis and he holds out one gloved hand in a very familiar gesture:  _pay up, Highness_.  
  
As if he wasn’t going to. Noctis and his retinue have amassed a stupid amount of gil, and he’d pay a stupid amount of gil  _plus_  to have the Regalia back in working condition. He is not going to  _walk_  to his destiny if he doesn’t have to.  
  
  
  
Three hours and thirty thousand gil later (Prompto cries at the amount), the Type-F is driveable (and… flyable?) again.  
  
“Be safe out there,” Cindy calls as she pulls the old girl around. There’s still a bit of a scolding spark in her eyes, and the words are pointed. “And be seein’ ya.”  
  
“Thanks, Cindy,” Noctis says, making sure gratitude is coming out of every pore on his body. He turns to the guys. “All right, we’re going. Finish up, gotta get to Meldacio before nightfall.”  
  
Now that they’ve all had a chance to shower, change and grab a bite, the tension in the group has eased and Noct doesn’t feel like there’s a target on his back anymore. He suffers a few not-so-playful smacks in the caravan and agrees to trade some super rare items away to the others in King’s Knight, but it is a worthy sacrifice to regain peace in the ranks. Kings must sacrifice for the kingdom and all that.  
  
More importantly,  _now_  he can get back to flying. Noctis  _loves_  being in the air with his father’s most prized possession, gazing out over the rocky mountains of Longwythe and the crystalline craters and valleys bordering Lestallum. He loves shifting gears and glimpsing lakes, marveling at tiny human dots and landlocked colorful cars. Flying makes him feel a little more alive.  
  
He moves to take the driver’s seat again, meaning to finish what he started much better this time—only for Ignis to take his shoulder in a vice grip.  
  
“Noct. Perhaps you should take some time as a passenger for the time being.”  
  
Not this again.  
  
“C’mon, Specs. I didn’t mean to wreck the car, and we’re all okay now aren’t we?”  
  
“Barely,” Ignis says. He holds out his other hand for the keys.  
  
“Cough up,” Gladiolus says from behind them, and suddenly Noct has  _another_  hand on his shoulder, almost sending him to the ground, and his Shield is on his left.  
  
“What is this, an intervention?”  
  
Prompto trots over from blowing Cindy a secret kiss and piles on: “It’s for your own good, buddy! Just until we get safely where we’re going.”  
  
“ _It was the birds_ —”  
  
“Yeah yeah, princess. Get in.”  
  
“Promptly, please.”  
  
Noct surrenders the keys and gets in grumbling the whole time about the disrespect. Gladio smirks as he settles next to him, and Prompto sinks into the shotgun seat a little more readily once Ignis’ sturdy hands are on the wheel.  
  
But he can’t be mad for long. He’d thought Ignis would drive them normally all the way to Meldacio and was prepared to take another day-trip nap, but he is jolted in his seat at the sudden burst of speed, at the feel of the newly-repaired wings unfurling on either side of him as they take flight once more.  
  
“Whoohoo!” their photographer cheers. “Back at it!”  
  
Ignis is the one smirking now, and even Gladio relaxes enough to dig for one of his books. Once they’ve stuck the takeoff, the worries of turning and landing are distant and can be handled when they’ve arrived in time for their next hunt.  
  
As for Noct, he stretches out and admires Lucis from above. The Type-F is the best idea Cid and Cindy have ever had. And even if the Regalia still smells a bit fishy—well, that’s not a smell he’s all that opposed to.


End file.
